


Valhallarama's Lullaby

by IWantMyOwnNightFury (WhatsInAName99)



Category: Dragons: Riders of Berk (Cartoon), How to Train Your Dragon (2010)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Canon Compliant, F/M, Gen, Heavy Angst, Mother-Son Relationship, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-11 03:52:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1168347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatsInAName99/pseuds/IWantMyOwnNightFury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Valla prayed that Stoick and Hiccup would stay free from harm and never once be scarred by those terrible monsters.  But when the god’s answerer prayers, the answers are often times “no.”  Extremely pre-canon, Hiccup’s only three</p>
            </blockquote>





	Valhallarama's Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> This is my submission for HTTYD-fanarts weekly event “Throwback Thor’s-Day” on DeviantArt. You have to either submit a piece that’s over two years old or make a new piece that takes place pre-canon. It’s also partly based off Hiccup’s flashback in chapter five of my fanfiction Enemy of my Enemy (not posted, still in the works)   
>    
>  _“Hiccup had never really thought much of it before, but now that he did, he realized that he could not remember ever having seen his father in pain, at least not pain that he showed. There was, however, one time when he was just a toddler. The memory was mostly feelings: feelings of fear and worry. There was blood on the floor, a groaning sound at the table and a bowl of steaming water in his mother’s hands. The shouting, roaring, and crashing of a dragon attack could still be heard outside the house.”_
> 
> I thought I might as well write that scene for the group event. I know it’s supposed to be a “fun” event but, hey, this is ME we’re talking about. I can’t NOT write angst.

Valhallarama sat in a chair facing the door with mace in her hands ready fight if, Odin forbid, one of those fire-breathing beasts should break thru the door. She wished she could be out there with Stoick, her husband and chief, to fight off the swarm of dragons that was undoubtedly decimating their village and ransacking their farms. That used to be her life, back when she was the toughest shieldmaiden Berk had ever seen. Now she was a mother, and Hiccup, the tiny child who was hopefully asleep upstairs needed her. She would stay home and guard her three-year-old son with her life. 

So she sat there, just listening to the sounds of shouting, roaring, and crashing, praying to every god and goddess whose name she knew that the two loves of her life, Stoick and Hiccup, would stay free from harm and never once be scarred by those terrible monsters.

But when the god’s answerer prayers, the answers are often times “no.”

The mother jumped up from her chair and dropped the mace on the floor with clang when Gobber burst thru the door, practically dragging a half-conscious Stoick.

“By the god’s, Gobber, what happened to him?” she demanded while taking in the disheveled sight of her husband. His face was swollen, bruised, and covered in ash, his cloths were shredded, and the most worrying part was the blood, so much blood, dripping from his left side. Something, she could not tell what, protruded from the skin.

“Caught a Whispering Death spike in the side,” Gobber answered. “Then the blasted devil whipped its tail at ‘im, sent ‘im flyin’ into a bolder face first.” Valla took one of Stoick’s arms while Gobber kept hold of the other. Together they brought him to the table and lifted him onto it, laying him on his back.

“Are ya sure the table’s gonna hold ‘im, Valla?”

“Nothing Mulch builds ever breaks unless one of those Hel-beasts gets their claws on it. Help me get these shredded, bloody cloths off of him.”

Inside, Valla was angry and terrified. For the sake of her husband, however, she had to remain calm. Panic never helped dress a wound. Her face was hard and her voice was as sharp and smooth as a newly forged ax as she instructed Gobber. They made quick work of the ruined garments and soon Stoick was left in only his leggings, reveling the full severity of the wound. Valla grimaced, her first real show of emotion. The skin around was purple and swollen and the rough edges of the spike scraped the edges of the wound with the motion of every ragged breath Stoick took. She took off the apron she wore, balled it up, and handed it to Gobber. 

“Pull out the spike and keep that cloth pressed on the wound. I’m going to boil some water to clean the wound. Keep the spike; Spitelout likes to make spearheads out of them.”

Even Gobber cringed at that notion. He knew better than anyone that pain and injury were part of Viking life. He was missing two limbs for Thor’s sake! But that didn’t make inflicting that pain on his best friend any easier, no matter how necessary it was.

“This’ll hurt now, Stoick,” he warned and positioned his only hand around the exposed end of the spike.

Stoick spoke for the first time, grumbling thru gritted teeth, “It hurts already, now just get this dammed thing out of me, you one-legged lout!”

“Anything you say, Chief.” That line was usually a joke, but this time Gobber spoke seriously. This was no time for jokes. He took a deep breath and in one swift motion yanked the Whispering Death’s spike out of Stoick’s side.

Stoick’s back arched off the hardwood table and he tried in vain to disguise a scream behind clenched teeth.

Valla, who was rummaging thru the cupboard for cloth to dress the wound, shuddered at the sound of Stoick’s scream and she almost let out her own cry of pain. She wanted so desperately to rush to his side, to hold him, to kiss him, to comfort him. This was impossible though, until he was taken care of. She had to be strong for him. Her only comfort was that Hiccup, the boy who could sleep thru Ragnarok, was upstairs in bed.  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hiccup heard something. He opened his big green eyes widely and looked around the room. What had woken him up?

Then he heard the telltale sounds of a dragon attack: roaring, crashing, shouting, and the crackling of burning buildings. He heard a shriek and a loud boom, and then someone shouted “Night Fury!” 

“Oooh, bad Night Furry.” His small voice quivered and he pulled his blankets up over his head, as if that layer of wool could shield him from all danger. “No want no more dagins fightin.” 

Then he heard something else. It was his mom and “Uncle” Gobber were downstairs. Someone was grumbling and groaning like they were hurt. Could it be...?

“Daddy,” Hiccup whispered.

Hiccup quietly stepped out of bed, wrapping his blanket around him. He tiptoed down the stairs and crouched behind the railing, peaking around to watch what was happening. 

He was so frightened he could not move or make a sound when he saw what was going on. He didn’t actually know or understand what was happening, but there was blood on the floor. That meant someone was hurt pretty badly right? His mom was carrying a bowl of something steaming…hot water maybe…and she was frowning. She never frowned. His mom was always so happy unless something really bad was happening. Then he saw his dad lying on the table. And more blood. So it WAS his dad making those hurt sounds!

Hiccup bit his quivering lip to stay quiet and pulled his blanket tight around him. Silent tears rolled down his face as he watched his mother clean off all the blood and wrap his dad up in spare cloth. How did his dad get hurt? Wasn’t he supposed to be the strongest Viking ever? If even the chief could get hurt, then a runty little “hiccup” like him could never be safe.

And that’s when Hiccup started to cry.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“We can get some herbs from Gothi in the morning,” Valla said in a voice that made no effort to hide her exhaustion. “This will do for now. Thank you Gobber, I think I can handle him from here. You probably have a line at the forge by now.”

Gobber nodded and Valla began gathering the scattered bloody rags when she heard muffled whimpering from the staircase. She turned around and was horrified to see Hiccup crouched behind a railing hiding his face in a blanket that was wrapped around his shoulders. When Hiccup noticed that his mother and Gobber had seen him, he gasped and ran up the stairs crying.

“Oh, Hiccup,” Valla sighed.

“I’ll get Stoick into bed,” Gobber offered. “You go take care of Hiccup. The forge can wait five more minutes.”

Valla nodded and used the last of the clean water to wash the drying blood from her hands and arms.

 

When Vall made it upstairs, Hiccup was balled up in his bed completely covered by his blanket.

“Hiccup, Sweetheart?”

“Stupit dagins hurt Daddy!” the toddler cried angrily. 

“Oh, Baby, come here.”

She sat down on the edge of Hiccup’s bed and let him crawl into her arms where he trembled and cried. She rocked from side to side and whispered small comforts until Hiccup quieted and stopped shaking. 

“Let’s get you back in bed now, Hiccup. You have to get plenty of sleep if you want to grow up to be a big strong chief someday. Okay?”

“Otay.”

Valla laid Hiccup down on his back and ticked the blanket around him. She was about to walk away until saw the child’s lip quiver again and heard a small whimper.

“There now, you’re okay.”

“Otay,” he whispered and began to cry again.

She lay down next to him and ran her fingers there his hair, bushing it out of his tear-soaked face. “I’ll stay here until you go back to sleep, okay.”

“Otay. I want sing.”

Valla continued to brush thru Hiccup’s hair as she sang, making up words on the spot as she normally did.

“Hush little Hiccup, don’t shed a tear,  
Mommy will kiss away your fear.  
Dragons roar and warriors shout,  
But I will keep the danger out.” 

She watched with a small, sad smile as the toddler’s innocent eyes fluttered closed and he fell asleep. She felt, no, she knew something deep in her soul. Hiccup, her sweet baby, would grow up to be Berk’s greatest champion. He would be the one to end the dragon war so his people could live in peace. She would never tell anyone this vision of hers, and the secret of it made it that much more special. Who would believe her anyway? Hiccup, her son, future chief, future dragon conqueror. 

Valla leaned down and placed a feather-light kiss on Hiccup’s forehead.

“Someday, child, you’ll end this war,  
And we will have to fight no more.  
When you grow into a man,  
There will be peace on this land.”

**Author's Note:**

> Valla’s song is supposed to be in the tune of “Hush Little Baby,” just like Ruffnut’s jacked-up songs from the episode “Free Scauldy.” Also, Hiccup’s dialogue is spelled wrong on purpose to reflect the way a toddler talks. 
> 
> Oh, just a bout of trivia. Did you know that Mark Twain was the first published author to write accents?


End file.
